The Killing Blow (19 page)

Recognizing the haunted look in Rain's eyes, Clint brought his rifle up and whispered, “Do you hear him?”

She nodded, but only hesitantly. That was enough for Clint to know that she wasn't entirely certain about her warning.

A week ago, Clint never would have been able to hear the subtle shifting of something in the bushes that he could right now. It was a sound that would have been mistaken for the wind blowing through leaves to the inexperienced ear. This sound had some weight behind it, though. It was a small yet important difference that he'd been forced to recognize during the course of Ordell's hunt.

Running the tip of his finger along his rifle's trigger, Clint waited to hear that sound again. When he did, he sighted a few paces ahead of it and fired.

That shot was answered by an even louder shot, which was unmistakably from Ordell's rifle.

Clint dropped to one knee and pushed Rain behind him. “Get out of here and find someplace safe to hide.”

“When should I come for you?”

“As soon as the shooting stops.”

Rather than play mouse to Ordell's cat, Clint gritted his teeth and made his best guess as to where Ordell was hiding. He then fired in that direction while running to the southwest. He stuck to the trails as much as possible. Every so often, he heard another shot from the hunter's rifle whip through the air.

There were times when Ordell would stop shooting, but Clint knew better than to relax. Instead, he kept firing and heading southwest. When he didn't have a notion as to where Ordell was, Clint fired into the air just to cover the sound of his own footsteps.

Finally, he made it back to a bend in the river, which was the biggest open spot he'd found in all the time he'd been in those woods. Clint got behind the biggest rock he could find and quickly reloaded his rifle.

“What's the matter, Clint?” Ordell shouted from somewhere close by. “You gettin' tired?”

“Actually, I'm getting thirsty. Why don't you come on over and we can have a drink?”

Ordell's laughter echoed over the water, making it difficult for his position to be nailed down. “I'll have my drink after the hunt's over, but I'll be sure to raise a glass in your name.”

“What the hell did I ever do to you, Ordell? You want your reward money? All you had to do was ask.”

“It ain't about the money. It's about this. Can't you feel it, Clint? Can't you feel the blood runnin' through yer veins like wildfire? There ain't nothing like this!”

“So that means you're just crazy, then,” Clint said. “I guess I can't say I'm too surprised.”

This time, when Ordell spoke, it was from a slightly different angle. “You should take this as a compliment. You're one of the few men to ever draw my blood during one of these excursions. That ain't no small feat.”

“Yeah. I'm honored.” Clint shifted around the rock a bit, doing his best to keep as much stone between him and Ordell.

“Huntin' wanted men was always good for sport, but they were too easy. They'd been runnin' fer too long and were already tired. Most of 'em wanted to be caught anyhow. This is like a gift, Clint. It makes a man appreciate his life more.”

“So if I just thanked you for the lesson and praised my new outlook on life, you'd just let me go?”

There was a few moments of silence before Ordell spoke again. “Nah,” he said. “I guess I wouldn't.”

After that, another shot from Ordell's rifle blasted through the air. Even though Clint couldn't see a single trace of the hunter, the shot Ordell fired sparked against the rock a few inches from Clint's head. Clint reflexively ducked and scooted around the rock before getting a look at the spot that had been hit.

“You still there, Clint?” Ordell shouted.

Clint bit his tongue and shook his head, cursing himself for playing Ordell's game once more. Even though he didn't have much choice at the moment, he still hated giving the hunter another free shot at him.

Just then, Ordell fired again. This time, however, it wasn't at Clint.

The big rifle sent its round through hanging branches and across the river like the end of a drill. Clint could practically feel the lead pass by, but it was too far off the mark to have been meant for him. He looked in the direction the bullet had gone and was just in time to see a few quick shots fired from that side of the river.

Holding his rifle in front of him, Howlett ran as quickly as he could. His movements made his limp even worse, but he managed to get to where Clint was huddled without falling into the river.

“About time you showed up,” Clint said. “I've nearly made enough noise to get myself killed.”

“Looks like he nearly got you pegged,” Howlett said between breaths.

“Yeah, but he's farther away than I thought,” Clint said in a voice that was soft enough to keep from carrying too far.

“How can you tell?”

“The spot where that bullet hit. If he'd been closer, it would have blasted out a bigger piece of rock. This bullet just made a crack.”

When Howlett looked at the chipped section of rock, he let out a low whistle and shook his head. “Still looks like a nasty piece of work to me.”

“It is.”

“How far away you reckon he is?”

“I'd say about a hundred yards across the river.”

“A hundred yards?” Howlett grumbled as another shot blazed from across the river.

Not only was this shot closer than the last, but it punched a deeper gouge into the rock.

“Make that about sixty yards now,” Clint said.

“Hey there, Howlett,” Ordell shouted. “You havin' as much fun as I am?”

“Fuck you!”

Ordell's laughter rolled toward the river and slowly faded away. “Too bad about yer Indian friend. He had some real promise. Or didn't you know about that?”

“What's he talkin' about?” Howlett asked.

“Just what we talked about before. Right now, we need to get out from behind this rock. He's playing with us now, but he'll either force us out when he's ready or he'll chip pieces of this thing away until we're sitting in the open.”

“What do you propose we do? We can't even see the bastard!”

“You see those two trees that formaVback there?” Clint asked. “Ordell's got to be in those trees or near them.”

“How can you tell?”

“Same way he knew where to aim at us. By the sound of his voice.”

“Dammit. My ears must not be what they used to.”

“You're going to have to trust me, then,” Clint said. “All we need to do is stick to our original plan.”

Howlett pulled in a deep breath and got his bad leg beneath him. “Let's go.”

After Ordell took his next shot, Clint bolted away from the rock in one direction and Howlett bolted in another. Since Clint could see that Howlett wasn't moving too well, he turned and started firing that much quicker.

In the back of Clint's mind, he ticked off the seconds it would take for Ordell to reload and fire the rifle. He had it worked out almost perfectly since he'd test-fired the weapon enough times when he was repairing it. Every so often, however, Ordell would get a shot off that was even faster than Clint had predicted.

Howlett stopped trying to move quickly and settled for firing accurately. Even as a few of Ordell's shots came at him, Howlett kept moving at his steady pace while firing again and again into the trees. Every time Ordell shot at him, Howlett was able to get a better idea of where those shots were coming from. Before too long, he could hear heavy steps stamping through the underbrush instead of more rifle shots.

“He's moving!” Howlett shouted.

Having left his rifle at the river, Clint kept his body low and drew his Colt. With his right hand wrapped around the pistol, his left hand took hold of his knife. Clint swung the blade in sweeping moves to clear anything in front of him that might trip him up. He didn't worry about snares or traps along the route he took, because the path had already been scouted and cleared.

Clint heard movement ahead and to the left, so he dug his feet into the ground and moved even faster. The next shot fired from Ordell's rifle thundered through the air loudly enough to set Clint's ears ringing. Since he didn't hear the bullet shred himself or anything else near him, Clint knew that Ordell was still firing at Howlett.

As much as Clint wanted to return fire and buy Howlett a moment to draw a breath, he held off and kept running. He even kept running when he turned off the path and into a section of woods that might have been trapped.

Clint kept swinging his blade, putting absolute faith in his own senses to warn him if anything was about to harm him. His ears were filled with the pounding of his own footsteps and heartbeat. His eyes, on the other hand, caught a very welcome sight.

As Clint raised his Colt to point at Ordell, he saw the hunter straighten up and bring his rifle around. The long weapon may have been powerful and accurate, but it was still unwieldy as hell and slowed Ordell down enough for Clint to take his first shot.

The modified Colt barked once and clipped a piece from Ordell's side.

Grunting and twisting to protect that side, Ordell started backing away from Clint. As he headed for the river, Ordell sighted along his rifle and took a shot.

Clint was still moving and heard the lead thunder through the spot he'd just left. He fired again, but Ordell managed to pull his trigger at the same time, forcing Clint to drop before getting blasted out of his boots. Ordell's round tore through Clint's back as he dropped, sending a fiery pain through his body.

A few cautious movements told Clint that he'd just gotten a flesh wound. Of course, that didn't make it hurt any less. Lifting his arm to fire another shot was painful, but since Ordell was still moving and firing back at him, Clint pushed through the pain pretty quickly.

Following Ordell this far had brought him back around toward the river. Acting on pure reflex, Clint bolted for the water while emptying his pistol in Ordell's direction. When he emerged from the trees, he saw Howlett on one knee fifty yards or so downstream.

Howlett gave Clint a wave and pointed toward the trees.

Clint didn't need to be told Ordell was there. He just hoped to reload before the hunter drew a bead on him.

The next series of shots came from Howlett as he fired and worked his rifle lever at an impressive pace. Soon, he was able to flush Ordell from the trees.

Ordell could barely be seen as he stepped forward and took aim at Howlett. “What the hell's wrong with you?” Ordell shouted. “Didn't you know that Clint killed that Indian friend of yours? I would've thought you'd be glad when I dropped Clint first. In fact, why don't we take Clint down right now and be done with it? We can have ourselves another hunt later if you like. Just between you and me.”

From where he stood, Clint could just see a slight rustle of movement in the trees behind Ordell. The only way he saw it at all was because Clint had been expecting it since this whole fight began.

A pair of strong, dark arms wrapped around Ordell. One arm cinched in around Ordell's neck and the other held the sharpened stone blade of a tomahawk under his chin.

“That's where you're wrong,” Crow hissed into Ordell's ear.

Ordell's face dropped and the color drained from his skin as he was forced to rethink his belief in ghosts.

Seeing that their own trap had been sprung, Clint and Howlett moved in closer. Clint reloaded his Colt and holstered it while Howlett grabbed the rifle from Ordell's hands. The hunter wasn't about to let it go so easily, but the tomahawk under his chin made Ordell loosen his grip.

“This ain't right,” Ordell said. “That Injun was killed. I saw it!”

“You saw me shoot and you saw Crow fall down,” Clint explained.

Squirming in Crow's grasp, Ordell asked, “Are you just gonna let them kill me, Clint? You're not that sort! You won't just stand by and watch a man get murdered.”

“You mean like I had to watch you murder your own nephew? If you've been counting on me showing you mercy after every time you tried to hunt me down and kill me, then you're sadly mistaken. I'm not in this for the bounty on your head and I'm not in this to execute you. I wanted to make sure your hunting days were over.”

From behind Ordell, Crow snarled, “They are over.”

“Th . . . this ain't a way to kill a man!” Ordell shouted with desperation shining through every word. “At least give me a weapon and fight me proper!”

“You are no man,” Crow said. “You are an animal.”

Clint turned his back and walked to the river as the killing blow was struck. After all the running and gunfire, it was a quiet moment followed by the thump of Ordell's body hitting the ground.

“It is done,” Crow said as he stepped up next to Clint and knelt down to wash his tomahawk in the river.

Clint was stooping down to take a drink. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of Ordell's body.

“After all that, I half expected him to jump up and start tearing after us again,” Howlett said as he stood next to Crow.

“Not any more,” Clint said.

“I suppose you'll be wanting to haul his carcass back to the law since he didn't get his trial.”

Clint shrugged. “Actually, I figured he should just be buried out here. It's where he belongs.”

“Nah,” Howlett grumbled. “You were right before. Them other folks that lost their kin to that bastard need to know it's over. I know Ed Gray's family checks in with the marshal every so often to see what they know about Ed's killer. It's about time they got some good news.”